The Long Dark Teatime of the Wizarding Wold
by The Geeky Quill
Summary: There's a book called HG2G. This is not its story. It's a Dirk Gently story with a Harry Potter crossover. Journey with Dirk and Tonks as they investigate what became of the hero Mad-Eye Moody. Ok, for the sake of categorization, pretend it's Ford's dream
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: This is primarily a Dirk Gently story and secondarily a Harry Potter story.__ I don't own Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency nor The Long Dark Teatime of the Soul. Those were written by Douglas Adams. I also don't own The Harry Potter novels. J.K. Rowling wrote those. And lastly, I don't own, "Kaleidoscope." That's a Procol Harum song. _

_Journey with Tonks and Dirk as they discover the mystery of what happened to the great wizard hero, Mad-Eye Moody. _

The Long Dark Tea-Time of the Wizarding World

Chapter 1

In the corner of a rather dingy little office on Peckender Street in London stood a wobbly hatrack leaning anxiously under the weight of a long brown coat and a hat of the remarkable variety- remarkable because of the remarks that it caused people to make, such as, "Wow, that's very...red," and "Was that actually intended to be a hat?"

The office also contained a filing cabinet, an overflowing wastebasket, and a battered desk smothered in papers, grimy coffee mugs, crumpled and sadly empty cigarette packs, and filthy paper napkins bearing the name of the pizza parlor down the street. Behind the desk stood a chair with one leg which was inexplicably shorter that the other three. Seated all over this chair was a rather portly private detective. Dirk Gently was the name under which he worked and "_holistic_ detective" was his preferred title. He was, at present, on the phone.

"Yes, Ms. Rowling, or may I call you Jo?"

There was a frantic babbling on the phone.

"Ah, yes, Ms. Rowling, I do appreciate that the actual cost was greater than the anticipated estimate, but you must understand..."

More babbling.

"As I was saying, Ms. Rowling, the interconnectedness of all things impelled me to procure several items as you can see from the itemized expense form my dearly departed secretary sent to you."

Sympathetic babbling.

"No, no, she hasn't died, just departed. As I was saying, Madam, the list includes such unfortunate and unforseen expenses such as: one brass plaque inscribed with the words, 'Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency,' a carton of cigarettes, one gold Rolex..."

Angry babbling.

"I'm so sorry, Ms. Rowling, I think this is a bad connection," Dirk said as he crumpled a used cigarette packet into the phone receiver. He was just jamming the phone back onto the cradle when the door to his office opened and in walked a pretty young woman with a perky little nose and equally perky pink hair. She wore a slight frown.

"Wotcher, Dirk."

The chair gave a _clunk_ as he pushed off of it and trundled across the room to greet the young witch in his doorway.

"Tonks, what a nice surprise!" he exclaimed. "Come in and sit down." He led her into the room and then looked chagrined when he remembered that there was only one chair in the office (for reasons we won't go into right now) and that being a gentleman meant he had to relinquish it to the young woman.

He was, however, relieved of the obligation when she waved her wand and caused another chair to spring into existence.

She sat.

So did he.

"Dirk, I need a favour."

"Anything for you, dear lady." Dirk pulled a pizza box out from under his desk and offered Tonks a slice. It was cold, greasy, and slightly rigid.

"Thanks." In reaching for a slice, Tonks knocked over an empty cup and several pens rolled off the desk. "Oh, sorry," she said after taking a bite.

"Inconsequential, I assure you," he assured her. Then, just so she wouldn't feel awkward, he knocked a stack of papers onto the floor with his elbow.

"What's this?" said Tonks, reaching down to retrieve a fallen newspaper. The headline read, "Mysterious lightning over England- Natural phenomenon claims government spokesman."

"If you prefer a more colourful version," said Dirk as he pushed a tabloid toward her. That headline read, "Lightning or Alien invasion? What the government isn't telling us."

"I consider them both rubbish. Tell me what you know, Tonks."

"That was the night my friend and mentor, Mad-Eye Moody, went missing. That's what I came to talk to you about." She looked sadly down at her bitten pizza.

"Go on," urged Dirk, leaning heavily on the desk.

"It was the night we were on a mission and there was a battle." She paused to wipe a tear away with the sleeve of her grey hoodie. "A curse hit him full in the face and he fell from his broom. My husband and our friend went to retrieve his," her voice choked at this point, "body. But they couldn't find him. I have such hope that he's still alive. Maybe he was captured and is being held in a dungeon or something worse!"

After all of the strange and disturbing phenomena Dirk had witnessed: time traveling professors, eagles that turn into airplanes, thunder gods, and mysterious bundles of keys that don't go to anything, talk of jetting around on broomsticks and shooting curses was tame business indeed.

He tipped back in his chair to think, drumming his fingers on the arm of the chair. He began to sing under his breath. "Lonely in the dark I grope"

"Dirk," interrupted Tonks. "That's the song that was going through my head the night Mad-Eye went missing. What is it?"

Dirk wrinkled his brow and shut his eyes, but it was just out of reach. He grabbed a wadded up packed but found it empty. "I can't think without a cigarette."

"Oi, Dirk! That's a nasty habit."

He ignored the comment and got his coat and hat. "Come along."


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

_Lonely in the dark I grope _

_The key's in my kaleidoscope_

Sunlight dappled the forest floor. A small breeze gusted through, causing the dapples to dance and fallen leaves to slide and tumble for bit and then settle back down. Somewhere above, a bird gave a cry and took flight. Some branches shivered and parted to make way for a lone figure fumbling blindly through the woods. With a gasp, the figure fell against a tree and slumped down to the forest floor where a pile of dry prickly leaves would have to serve as a bed while he rested, curled under a badly tattered cloak.

A squirrel scampered in a spiral down a neighboring tree to chatter interrogatively at him. The figure groaned, causing the squirrel to spiral back up in order to chatter from a safer distance. Breathing heavily, the figure fell into a semi-comatose state.

_In one face, one moment's fusion_

_Realize the new illusion_


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Dirk _had _wished that he could have said that he always suspected there was a considerable wizarding population living in England, but the fact was, he had been taken stupidly by surprise. It was on one bright spring day of the bloody cheerful variety and he was on a case he felt was well below his dignity- tracking down the lost cat of a blue haired old lady. It was his only case that month, so his dignity would just have to live with it.

He had no leads and was strolling down Charring Cross Road wondering if he should just chuck this one and find the closest pub in which to drown his misery, or at least give it a good soaking, when he decided to take one more bash at a method he often employed which was this; he would follow some random individual who seemed to know what they were about and see what turned up. He didn't always discover what he set out to, but usually he did end up exactly where he needed to be.

On that spring day, he decided to follow a young women, when she unexpectedly vanished between a bookshop and a record store. Dirk stood and blinked about that for half a moment. He wasn't, however, unduly shocked. He'd once seen over a hundred people (well, immortals, actually), as well as himself, disappear from St. Pancras Station and reappear in Valhalla, the Nordic god Odin's great hall. It looked suspiciously like the old Midland Grand Hotel.

Dirk had followed the afore mentioned girl and found himself in a pub, much to his delight. However, much to his dismay, the girl didn't stay there, but continued on to the back courtyard and through yet another wall. She tapped a brick with a stick she had produced from her bag and the wall rearranged itself into a doorway. Dirk followed her through it. That's when the girl noticed him. The girl was Tonks and he soon learned that she was a witch and that he was standing on a street as old as London itself and yet went totally ignored all this time by anyone not magical, a bit like an ultra-violet rainbow which can be arching itself as bold as anything but nobody but an Australian mantis shrimp can really appreciate its intricacy.

But that whole thing was months ago.

Dirk entered the store to a fanfare of tinkling bells of the sort that shop owners hang on their doors to alert themselves to put down the crossword and appear eager to assist. Tonks followed and looked around in wonder as if she'd never been inside of a liquor store before, for the sole reason that she had never been inside of a liquor store before. Dirk had, and he knew just what to do.

"A pack of Gauloises, untipped, please," he said to the proprietor who was eying Tonks warily.

The pink haired girl was playing with a cork screw making the wingie things to flap up and down. "What's this for?" She noticed the look on the faces of the others and sheepishly went to put it back only to knock over a cardboard display panel, scattering novelty lighters everywhere. They each had amusing statements on their sides, such as: "Light My Fire, Baby," and "Flick You." Tonks picked up a red one. "Oi Dirk, 'Holy Smoke!'" she read.

"Er, yes," said Dirk, "and the lighter." He casually snatched it and tossed it down on the pack of cigarettes. Then he made the obligatory pat down of his pockets in an "I believe I've left my money in my other coat," manner. Tonks rolled her eyes and produced some money from her own pocket. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly," protested Dirk as he quickly added a second pack of cigarettes to the pile. "I will be forever in your debt." With more eye rolling, Tonks and Dirk left the shop.

On the sidewalk, Tonks began to toy with the lighter, not having any idea what it's purpose was. Dirk reached over and without removing it from her hand, flicked it on to light his cigarette. She was then obliged to wait while he took several slow and deliberate drags. His face suddenly became animated.

"Tonks, I'm ready to solve the unsolvable, discover the indiscoverable, and explic the inexplicable!"

"Super Dirk!" She ran along side him as he strode briskly down the road. The effect was not unlike a Chihuahua on walkies with a Newfoundland.

_Clutching fingers break the puzzle _

_jostle, hassle, elbow bustle_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Death, to put it simply, was absolutely _not_ acceptable.

From the air, London looked much more manageable. The sheer obfuscation of his predicament that had been nagging at his mind settled back for a bit of a respite and allowed him to simply enjoy the view. One could really feel substantial and in control so high above the city. The spectre began to perk up considerably. After a time, he felt prepared to take action.

Swooping down revealed details. He noticed more than even _he_ had noticed in his life, and goodness knows that he had habitually noticed much more than your average man, he with his magical orb that had served as a prosthetic eye after he had lost the original. That "eye" even gave him X-Ray vision. Of course, now, he didn't have any eyes at all, normal nor magical, and yet he could see so many things that hitherto had been invisible. When he really screwed up his eyes, or rather, fancied he was screwing up whatever it was he was able to see with, he could even see individual atoms. This had the effect of making everything appear as if it were made up of tiny colored candies that hovered closely together, yet not quite touching, which only served to make him crave all of those things that living people take for granted and he would never experience again, such as the savor of food, the sweet aroma of flowers, that settled feeling at the end of the day when you kick your shoes off and loosen your trousers. He zipped past pedestrians, toppling their hats off, but they only mistook him for wind.

_Jostle, hassle, elbow bustle_

_in a swirling rainbow tussle_

Frustrated, the spectre whizzed upward to join a grey cloud and shove it into position to refract some sunlight, before whooshing back down to the city again.


End file.
